


Full of Wounds and Still Standing on my Feet

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Team Bonding, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 01:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4372025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The five times Steve looked out for Wanda, and one time Wanda decided someone needed to look out for Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full of Wounds and Still Standing on my Feet

**Author's Note:**

> As usual this is un beta'd, but I have read through and fixed anything that stuck out to me, so hopefully it's all good 
> 
> This is my first fic for this pairing and I am..... Very excited. To say the least :D
> 
> Enjoy??? 
> 
> Oh, and the title is taken from a quote by Nikos Kazantzakis

I raised myself.  
My legs were weak.  
I prayed my mind be good to me  \- Hozier, Into The Woods Somewhere

1.

The first time Steve sees Wanda after the battle is four hours later, as he's walking down the halls of the Helicarrier, a towel around his neck as he's in search of an empty room for him to shower. He assumes that the door coming up to his left is open because the room inside is empty, but instead Steve finds it occupied, and he's too late to continue walking down the hallway as he's already stopped, and the person sitting on the small cot has already seen him hovering in the doorway anyways.

"Captain." Wanda says, her voice short and accent tight, and Steve hesitates before looking down at himself and covering his torso more with the towel.

"Sorry. I thought this room was empty." He explains, sending her a small smile as she studies him. Steve watches as Wanda shrugs her shoulders slightly before turning her head to look back at the wall. Steve watched her for a moment longer, noticed how she was still dirty and bloody, even though he was certain all of them had been made to go and see the medics. Her fingers were clasped in her lap, fiddling with the hem of her skirt, and her posture made her seem as if she wanted to be smaller - hunched back, head dipped forward, legs crossed as close to her as Steve was sure was possible.

"Did you need something, Captain?" Wanda asks, her hair covering her face, and Steve doesn't know what to do. He supposes he could go over there and comfort her, but the last thing he wanted when he lost his Dad, and his Ma, and then Bucky, was contact with anyone. Steve watched her, still silent and unmoving, and tried to remember the pain he had felt, just for a second, try and remember if anything had helped when he had lost those dearest to him.

"You should probably get that head wound checked out." Steve says instead, deciding it may be easier to talk to her about something not relating to her brother's death, and Wanda shrugs again, but Steve watches as she does bring one of her hands up to her forehead. He takes a step into the room, over the threshold now, and Wanda seems to pick at the dried blood in her hairline before sighing and dropping her hand into her lap again.

"I have survived this long with it, I'm sure it just needs cleaning." Wanda comments, and Steve goes to grind his jaw before letting out a huff of air and taking another step into the room.

"I'm sure the medics would like to check it out anyways, it may need stitches." Steve tells her, and the red ball of energy whizzes past his ear with a deathly crack as Wanda jumps to her feet, arms up and almost snarling. Steve stops walking then, turning to see the damage behind him, his mouth falling open slightly at the charred and bent metal that was once a wall. Steve turns around to face Wanda, slowly, and watches as her eyes dart between him and the mess on the wall. He thinks he hears her sob, but once again her hair is covering her face, and he can't be sure.

"I think you should go, Captain." Wanda murmurs, her voice thick, and like Hell Steve is gonna leave her in a state like this, frazzled and isolated. To his right Steve sees the door to the bathroom, and he walks over to it, opens the door, and is immediately in search of some sort of face cloth.

Behind him, Wanda is still standing in the middle of the room, and Steve turns the tap onto warm before dipping the end of his own towel under the tap, wringing it out, and then going to stand by the bed.

"You wanna sit?" He asks, giving her the chance to say no if she wants to, but after one tense moment, Wanda shuffles back to perch on the mattress, and tucks her hair behind her ears, her eyes staring at the floor in front of them, saying or implying nothing. Steve lifts the towel up to her head gash first, and lightly dabs at the dried blood around the wound, before finally dabbing at the raw flesh. Wanda lets out a hiss, her fingers clenching into fists on the bed frame, and Steve pulls his hand back as if he's been burnt, unsure if he should continue or not.

"Sorry." He mumbles, re-folding the end of the towel so he can work with a clean bit, and, with no words uttered by Wanda, he decides to keep going. The gash is about two inches long, starting at the sphenoid bone and working its way up onto her frontal bone, and Steve is shocked she doesn't have some kind of concussion, given how deep it also seems to be, and how much blood has matted in her hair.

"I really would recommend stitches." He tells her, gently pushing more of her hair out of the way to see if the gash is actually any longer, but finds no more injuries to take care of.

"Maybe later." Wanda mumbles, and Steve knows that's a lie. He sighs then, instead, and takes his hand away from where it had paused with the towel over her gash, and he drops his arms to his side, the end of the towel falling down to mirror the other side.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Steve asks, trying to assess her without making her feel like she's being watched, and Wanda sighs before shuffling, her hand going to her skirt hem and pulling it up slightly, where a gash from her mid thigh starts, and continues down under her knee socks. Steve purses his lips, before holding onto her hand and pulling her skirt down again, and thinks of what to do. It doesn't look too deep, and it seems like her socks and skirt had already soaked up the most of he bloodt, but he was sure the last thing any of them needed - especially Wanda - was it to go infected, or to ruin her mobility.

"If you're scared of doctors, or anything, I'll sit with you while they stitch you up." He offers, scratching the back of his neck, and Wanda looks up at him then, a quizzical look over her features.

"It is nothing to do with doctors, Captain. I am fine." She tells him, her face flickering with something, and Steve almost wants to pull the 'Captain' card. Tell her to go. Tell her, if she's really on this team now, then she needs to do what the rest of the team do, and go see a damn medic.

Wanda continues to sit in silence. With most of the blood cleaned off of her, Steve realises she's now in much of the same shape as him - weary and covered in dust and dirt, and in desperate need of a hot shower.

"I think Agent Hill has her own first kit around here, well, she did when this thing was last in use. If I can find it, will you let me give you the medical attention you need, and maybe some painkillers?" Steve asks, unsure what else to offer, and Wanda lets out a low laugh.

"You think painkillers can help the pain I am feeling?" She snaps, her hands once again clinging to the bed, and Steve deflates at that. It finally makes sense to him.. Survivors guilt. Steve knew it all too well, and as soon as he realised it, it felt like a punch to the gut.

"Your brother would want you to be safe, I'm sure." Steve suggests, which was clearly the wrong thing to say, because then Wanda is shooting red again, and this time it's thick ropes around his neck, and Steve, for just a second, panics.

"Do not speak to me as if you knew my brother." She spits, still sitting on the bed, and while Steve has at least five inches on her height, and probably double the body mass, he's struck with the thought that this girl could surely crush him from where she sat. Steve stands there though, the ropes on his neck heavy - but thankfully, not tight - and Steve lets out a sigh.

"I'm sorry, I don't... Wanda, I know what you're going through. And you're going to be angry, and upset. You lost your brother, your only family member left, and..." Steve squeezes his eyes shut, doesn’t think this is working at all. For all of the pep-talks he had given in his long - yet short - life, this one was the worst, and hardest, yet.

"I went through your memories, that time in Africa." Wanda admits, anger still in her voice but her features softened, and Steve doesn't know what to think of that. He supposes he should feel violated, upset, Hell, even angry, but for that moment he can't summon any emotion except maybe curiosity.

Wanda drops her hands then, the air whooshing around them due to the disturbance, and Steve lets out a deep breath of air once the restrictions around his throat are let go.

"Wanda. Hurting yourself more than the pain you're already feeling... It doesn't do anything." Steve explains, softly, and Wanda looks down then, twiddling her thumbs, and Steve is suddenly in that place again where he doesn't know what to do.

_"What can you do?" Tony had asked in the infirmary, his own voice soft and pensive, and the group had all mumbled and shrugged and dipped their heads, unsure of how to answer._

The two of them stay in the room for a few minutes longer, and Steve wonders why it doesn't seem awkward, or why he no longer feels like he's imposing. He looks down at Wanda's head again, notices her teased and tangled hair that falls around her shoulders, and Wanda could probably feel his eyes on her, because she sighs before pulling herself onto the bed, the crook of her knees hitting the edge of the mattress. Steve takes it as the invitation it is and sits beside her, a few inches of room between them just in case she changes her mind.

"Pietro and I, whenever we seeked comfort, we would... Hold hands, or something. Ruffle each other's hair or stand close. Our parents used to call it a twin thing." Wanda tells him, her voice soft in the quiet of the room, and Steve listens, not wanting to interrupt her, or upset her now calm demeanor.

"We never really had friends, you know." She says, her fingers once again clasped in her lap, and Steve notices the many rings on her fingers, the chipped black nail polish, the grazes on her knuckles.

"May I?" Steve asks, placing his hand palm up in the space between them, and Wanda turns to look at it, before slowly pulling one hand away from the other. She seems to hesitate, her hand stopping mere inches away from where it would make contact with Steve’s, but then she places it on top, suddenly her grip like a vice around his fingers, and Steve squeezes tightly back, figuring he can have a shower when they get to the Avenger's Tower anyways.

 

2.

“Argh.” Someone hisses, followed by a clatter and the sound of something rolling across tiled floor, and Steve stops where he is, silently reading in the living room, and slowly turns his head towards the kitchen.

“Friday?” He asks, his tone wary, and another bang comes from the kitchen, this one causing Steve to wince.

“It appears that Miss Wanda has attempted a recipe that isn’t exactly going how she planned, Sir.” Friday answers, her tone ever calming and even, and Steve runs his finger down the page he was about to turn before sighing, closing the book, and getting up off of the couch to investigate.

When Steve walks into the kitchen, he almost walks right back out. There were dishes and cutlery and baking needs spread about the island in the middle and where the oven was against the wall, and Steve felt a pang of guilt for the person who had to clean this all up.

“All okay here?” Steve asked, eyebrows raised at Wanda as she mixed two bowls at once, both being controlled by wispy strands of red, while kicking one of the bottom drawers shut with an immense force.

“Everything is fine.” Wanda assured, flicking her head up to send Steve a quick smile, before turning back to a cookbook and staring at it, her eyebrows pulling together and lips pulling tight.

“You sure? Because I think that whatever is in the oven right now is burning.” Steve warned, a smile playing at the corner of his lips, and Wanda let out a loud sigh before spinning around, opening the oven and pulling out the tin, which smelt of burnt banana’s and smoke, and the minute Wanda opened the oven door, the fire alarms went off and the sprinklers rained down on them.

“Oh for the love of God!” Wanda cried, immediately bringing the cake in her hands over her head to shield herself from the water. Steve let out a laugh, shaking his head at her, before going around to her side of the bench and leaning on it next to her.

“You’re supposed to be the leader of this team. I’m sure Natasha would not appreciate you laughing at the youngest and newest member.” Wanda said, her own smile lighting up her face, and Steve was happy for her, that she’d finally broken down those walls she’d built up the moment her brother had died.

“Are your guys showers not working, or do you just enjoy flooding my kitchen? My very expensive kitchen, actually, that I designed based off all of your likes. Eight people are a lot of people to try and please all at the same time, Cap.” Tony said, coming in and flicking the sprinklers off with a few taps on the screen of one of his tablets.

Steve could see Wanda tense beside him, the smile immediately drop off her face and turn defensive.

“I’ll go find a… Mop.” Wanda says, shuffling out of the room, water splashing about, and Steve almost stops her, but then Tony is coming up to the bench, and Steve decides to face him instead.

“It was an accident, she left the cake in the oven too long, look, if you need any repairs I’ll--”

“Hey, hey. Chill.” Tony interrupted, holding both of his hands up, and Steve exhaled through his nose.

“I was only joking, the tower has water evacuation methods if the sprinklers ever did go off, it’s totally fine.” Tony explained, nodding his head behind Steve, and Steve turned to face the bench where drains had appeared through the wall, and the water that had pooled up on the granite and was draining away. The same was happening to the water on the floor.

“She’s still uncomfortable around you. You can’t joke around with her like you do to us.” Steve explains to Tony, lowering his voice a little and placing his hands on the bench in front of him.

“It’s been half a year, I thought we had overcome all of this… Stuff.” Tony says, waving his hands about at the end of his sentence, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“It’s not just Sovokia. Her entire life has been shaped by what you--r bomb did,” Steve says, clearing his throat at Tony’s defensive stare, “I think you just need to give her a break, or something. Like, be more gentle, show her that you two are on the same team. She needs it.” Steve tells him, positive if Wanda finds out about this she will do something to him not dissimilar to the time on the helicarrier, but he doesn’t mind. He knows what it’s like to be the odd one out, to not be sure whether he’s stepping in the right places or not, and he’d hate for Wanda to feel the same, especially around the people who are supposed to be her main support from now on.

“Alright, alright. Jesus, you ever thought of being a school principal? I’m sure you’d give those kids one hell of lecture.” Tony exclaims, rolling his eyes, and Steve sends him a deadpan look.

“Tony…” Steve starts, folding his arms across his chest, and Tony lets out a grin before shaking his head.

“Look, I get you, okay? I’m listening. I’ll do what you’re saying, I want her to be part of the team too, right? So, get your knickers out of a twist.” Tony finishes, his smile dazzling as always, and Steve wants to get the plates of soggy cooking and dump it on his head, just to see what kind of reaction that would make. He doesn’t, though, and Tony walks out as his Dum-E wheels in, and Steve doesn’t see her, but Wanda is standing out in the other hallway, pressed against the wall, a small smile playing at her lips and gratitude and relief hitting her like a tonne of bricks.

 

3.

Wanda stalked the halls of the Avenger’s Tower, her footsteps silent and her breathing controlled and soft. It was colder than she thought it would be, the air conditioning making the air seem dry and light, and her arms and legs were covered in goosebumps.

“Wanda?” A groggy voice called out, and Wanda snapped out of her daze and stopped in the middle of the hallway, her breath catching in her throat.

Wanda turned, slowly, and faced the man in front of her. Steve stood, his head and left side of his body sticking out of his doorway. In the dim light Wanda could make out his sleep toussled hair, and the deep bags under his eyes. He was wearing only a pair of sweatpants, probably due to the August summer heat, and Wanda was too busy worrying about her own sleep attire to listen to what he was saying to her.

Steve stepped out of his room and walked towards her.

“Wanda?” He asked again, his voice firmer this time, and Wanda looked up at him.

“Can’t sleep.” Steve said, a statement, not a question, and Wanda shrugged.

“It happens.” She replies, averting her eyes, and Steve lets out a weak laugh.

“Yeah, I know. Want something to eat?” He asks, retreating in the direction of the kitchen, and Wanda stands there for a moment, before nodding and making her way to follow him.

 

4. 

With the New Avengers formed, the team needed to begin making new battle plans and have more frequent training.

Steve loved the training rooms. Loved the aura that came with it, the driven focus he got when he stepped onto the mat, and the pride that washed over him when he watched his team accomplish something was indescribable.

“Hey soldier, you up for a spar?” A voice called out, and then Natasha was flipping over the railing, landing as graceful as ever, a smirk on her face and a twinkle in her eyes.

“No fossil jokes today?” Steve asked, and Natasha flipped her head back in a laugh.

“The day is still young, I still smell of deodrant, who knows what will happen?” Natasha winked, wrapping tape around her knuckles and watching over the others in the room.

“They’re getting good.” She remarks, dropping her hands to her side, and Steve comes up behind her, following her train of sight. In the corner, The Vision and Rhodey were taking a break, chatting away about something or the other. Up above, Sam was testing out a new pair of wings, and across the room, Wanda was standing by herself, practicing liftling all of the different weights with her mind, tossing them across the room and making them spin through the air at different speeds and in different patterns.

“Yo, grandpa.” Natasha snarked, jabbing him in the ribs, and Steve retaliated by pulling her in by the neck and ruffling her hair. Steve knew that if Natasha wasn’t in such a good mood he would be on the floor with one of the training knives to his neck and a deathly smirk on her face, but instead Natasha kicked out his legs form underneath him, and Steve fell to the floor with an ‘oomph’.

“You’re no fun anymore.” Natasha quipped, looking over him with a bored face, and Steve laughed up at her.

“No, I’m serious. I’m bored of training with you. Wilson! Maximoff! Over here, now.” Natasha ordered, hauling Steve to his feet and standing with her arms crossed as the two others made their way to each other.

“Is everything ok?” Wanda asked, her eyes flicking between Steve and Natasha, and Steve looked to Natasha for her new plan of action.

“Wilson, you and I are going to work on compatabilty. Wanda and Steve, you two are gonna work on hand-to-hand combat.” Natasha ordered, and Steve saw Wanda take a small step back.

“The only hand combat I prefer to have in the field, Agent, is with my hands and my own powers.” Wanda explained, and Natasha turned to face her.

“Which is understandable, but there could be times where you can’t use your abilities, or are in a place that they won’t work or any other situation that you may just need to throw a punch or kick someone in the guts.” Natasha explained, simple enough, but Wanda still looked skeptical.

Steve stepped forward then, between the two girls with a gruff “ahem”, and Natasha nodded to him before taking hold of Sam’s arm and dragging him to the large open area in the middle of the room.

“You nervous?” Steve asked, turning to face her, and Wanda didn’t move.

“Okay. Let’s start with some basics, you know? Like, how to throw a good punch.” Steve said, wandering over to the punching bag, and he heard Wanda follow, her feet dragging slightly. Steve turned to face her then, a chipper smile on his face, and Wanda returned a smaller one, before looking up at the bag.

“Don’t worry about that right now, okay, we gotta focus on the basic things. Now, make a fist for me.” Steve instructs, and Wanda looks down at both of her hands with a panicked sort of look.

“I use both hands equally, what one do I make a fist with?” She asks, flexing both hands out, and Steve placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Relax. Natasha’s tarining methods are…questioning, I’ll admit. You probably won’t have to use fighting skills that much anyways, but, like she said, if you ever are in a position you need to, it’s better to know them than to not. So, take a deep breath, and then just make a fist with whichever hand you want.” Steve coaxes. Wanda still looks unhappy, and so Steve tries a different method.

“Ok, how about I go to punch you – don’t worry, I wouldn’t actually – and then you show me how you would defend yourself, yeah?” Steve asks, holding up his own fists and going to punch the air a few inches away from Wanda’s face. Wanda watches, seemingly like a sitting duck, before immediately stepping to the side, bringing up her own fist and punching Steve right in the jaw.

Steve feels Wanda’s individual knuckles when they hit, and his head swings around with the force of it.

“Holy shit.” Steve lets out, turning back to face Wanda, who has both of her hands clamped to her mouth, the hand she punched with red and a little blotchy.

“I’m so sorry.” Wanda whispers between her hands, and Steve holds his hand to his cheek, ignoring the other four in the room who are either pissing themselves laughing or standing in slienced shock.

“No, no. It’s fine, definitely fine. Damn, wasn’t exactly expecting it though.” Steve admits,  and Wanda brings her hand up to his cheek, which Steve knows the serum is already healing what would have been a deep and dark bruise on anyone else’s cheek.

Wanda drops her hand then, walking over to the bench to sit down, and Steve follows, deciding they can work on other stuff in a minute.

“Pietro and I used to always play fight, before our parents… Anyways, in our neighbourhood, there was this nasty boy, who always used to pull my pigtails and follow me home from school. One day, Pietro and I were walking home, and the boy turned up. I felt him walking close behind us, told Pietro to ignore it, but then I felt his hand touch my skirt, and Pietro went…Well. He beat him up, in the middle of the street. Ended up with a broken hand and too many bruises to count. I didn’t like fighting much after that.” Wanda tells him, and Steve pulls a face at that’s, feels quite offended and angry that someone would take adavantage of her like that, especially at such a young age, but he doesn’t speak.

“You’re brother was certainly a good man.” Steve tells her, being completely truthful, and Wanda hums at him, kicking her legs out from under the bench.

Steve looks across the room again, watches Sam and Nat do some mid-air flip thing incorporating her agility and his wings, and noticing that Rhodey and The Vision must have both snuck out in the time he’s been sat with Wanda, because he doesn’t see them anywhere.

“Shall we continue? We can work on something that isn’t that… Hardcore. Self-defence only.” Steve swears, standing up and holding his hand out for her. Wanda looks at it before standing to her feet herself, and then nods towards the training mat, clearly feeling a little bit more confident for the second try.

 

5. 

“Everyone is staring at us.” Wanda whispers, untucking her hair from behind her ears so it falls over her face, and Steve pulls his baseball cap down lower and puts his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to him in hope of hiding her from the HYDRA agents following them.

“They’re not, that’s the paranoia talking. The first thing about going on the run is _walk,_ don’t run.” Steve tells her, and Wanda brings her hand up to Steve’s jacket lapel.

“I take it those are not your own words.” She murmurs, her accent thicker due to her fear, and Steve pushes them down another block, pulling his sunglasses down to cover his eyes once he realises how much busier the street is.

“How’d you figure that?” He asks, his voice strained as he lifts his head up in search of the evac chopper, and he hears Wanda let out a snicker.

“You are not the most patient man, and I also figure you have not been on the run much often. Natasha, however, she seems more….equipped, for this sort of thing.” Wanda tells him, and Steve makes a note to ask Nat when the hell these two started having sleepovers.

“You got me there.” Steve mutters under his breath, and he can almost feel the freedom when up on a balcony above them, a rifle scope hits sunlight, and Steve is immediately on alert.

“Wanda, split!” He yells, pushing her away from him as the first bullet shoots down at them, and he hears Wanda let out a yell of frustration as she throws her arms out, bright red immediately engulfing the street, the guy on the balcony being thrown over into the middle of the street, landing on the asphalt with a squelchy ‘thud’.

“I thought you said back-up was coming!” Wanda shouts, flicking her wrist as a man and woman run into the street, the two of them letting out sobs as they drop to their knees, each of them holding their heads in pain.

Steve is about to reply, when he sees three other guys appear, each with their own guns, and they’re all headed straight for Wanda. He runs, as fast as he can, knowing that the hexes she lets out can only be in her sight range, and then she’s in his arms as the bullets start, and Steve is holding her, bridal style, as Wanda creates a forcefield around the both of them, looking at him with an expression Steve can’t quite decifer.

It’s then that the chopper decides to show up, with Natasha and Clint on board, the two of them springing to action and making their arrests – or kills – and Steve sets Wanda back on her feet gently, before she scrunches her face up and smacks him on the arm.

“You are unbelievable!” She hisses, glaring up at him, and Steve’s eyes widen as he realises what he did. Running into gun fire to save someone else.

“Oh.” Steve says, unsure of what else he can say, and Wanda rolls her eyes before wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and letting out a hysterical sob.

“You know, I can take care of myself.” She says a moment later, pulling away from him before Steve has a chance to embrace her himself, and Steve nods.

“I know, but I think that if your brother were here, and I hadn’t done what I did do, he would’ve kicked my ass. Like yourself, he packs a mean right hook.” Steve says, worried the mention of Pietro might make Wanda upset, but instead she laughs, and turns to see Natasha and Clint sitting on the side of the road, the chopper slowly taking off and the four of them left to wait for further instructions.

“It is funny, you know. Having all of these men watch over my as if I am some damsel. Funny, but also sweet.” Wanda mentions, almost quiet enough as if she was saying it to herself, and at that she takes Steve’s plam in her own, squeezes it tight, and then wanders off to sit with Natasha and Clint, probably asking how his mission in Manila went.

Steve thinks her words over for a moment, just standing with probably a blank look on his face, before shoving his hands in his pockets, and going to tease Nat about her new haircut.

 

+1.

Wanda watches as Steve gravely makes his way into the Avenger’s Tower. He’s hunched over with his right arm covering his abdomen, and his left arm holding onto his mission pack, and even though he had told the team he was fine, Wanda can tell from the bruising that covers more than half of his that he’s at least in some kind of pain.

She knows, of course, that any talk of The Winter Soldier was kind of off-limits. In Tony’s case, it was due to the fact that the man had been responsible for the death of his two parents, and in Steve’s case, well, Wanda supposes, much like she still feels, the sting and reminder that his once thought dead best friend is actually out there, somewhere, possibly suffering, was probably tearing him apart. And it hurt Wanda, to think about the pain Steve was probably going through, because Steve was a good man. She saw that plain as anything while siphoning through those delicate memories of his those two years ago, and she sees it everyday she’s with him, because there’s no way a person like Steve Rogers can go without doing something brave, or stupid, or kind, for a friend or desperate person in need of help.

The team – minus Clint and Natasha, who had separated themselves upon arrival – make their way to their individual floors, each to shower and rest and just take in the toll of the past few days. It had been gritty.

Old tech from a man named Justin Hammer had been found by one of Tony Stark’s old college buddies, who, at the time seemed like an ‘ _Alright dude, you know? We used to split shares for the beer kegs when we hosted our frat parties, you just don’t expect a guy who does that to try and kill you!’_

But he had, and the Avengers – new, and old – had spent the better part of two months planning and devising and blackmailing and torturing to finally find the guy, and then had spent the last week in the cold and harsh winter of Astana, Kazakhstan, and even though Wanda had spent the entirety of the quinjet ride home wrapped up in a blanket and sitting between Sam and The Vision, she still felt frozen to the bone.

However, the hardest hit was when The Winter Soldier had turned up, looking even rougher than all of them together, and before any of them could even get a word out, he’d put a bullet in Marty Raines head, nodded stiffly to Natasha, and had then disappeared over the warehouse roof.

Wanda wasn’t even sure Steve had so much loked in Natasha’s direction since the affair, and she knew that the strain between the two was taking a toll on all of them.

But instead Wanda stood quietly in the elevator down to her floor, didn’t reach out and place a hand on Steve’s shoulder, or ask if he wanted her to get some ice for him to put on his face, or look at his ribs and see if they really were broken, like Sam had suspected, and she watched him get out, a floor above hers, with a terse smile and jerky movements. It made her anxious, seeing him like this, all broody and curled in on himself, not at all like the Steve Rogers most of the history books spoke about, but then again, when had any of those things ever been true?

Wanda makes her way to her bedroom, ten seconds later, sending a tired smile to Rhodey who was probably on his way to Tony’s underground lab when she steps out of the elevator, and immediately dumps her dirty clothes and mission pack in the large laundry basket, which will be cleared and returned to her in pristine condition probably during dinner, by one of Stark’s little robot creations.

Thankfully for Wanda, who had destroyed one she came across her first time stepping foot in the Tower, they were nothing like Ultron at all. Wanda smiles to herself at the memory, remembering the glee she felt at Tony’s horrified expression when he ran in to see his small little claw thing in smoke and pieces, and it makes her realise how far she’s come, from almost killing these people to finding a team – a family – in a few botched ways.

She makes her way to the bathroom then, turning on the shower and sitting on the edge of the basin while it heats to almost boiling temperatures, and as she looks into the fogged mirror, she sighs as she thinks of her brother.

Shaking her head, and unclasping the necklace he bought her for their tenth birthday before her shower, Wanda makes herself forget those thoughts for the time being, undresses herself from her dirty and bloody gear, and steps into the spray.

\--

When Wanda emerges, her skin red and palms wrinkled and pruny, she feels weightless and scrubbed, and feels like she can click her joints without falling apart while doing so. Around her, the bathroom smells of her shampoo and bodywash, and Wanda turns on the bathroom fan to de-fog the mirror, and goes out to get dressed.

She checks her phone, in case she’s missed any important debriefing, but all there is is a text from Natasha, sent a few minutes after she got into the shower, requesting one little thing.

**_‘Check on Rogers for us.’_ **

Wanda sighs as she locks her phone screen, and sits on her bed as she brings her clothing items to where she already is, instead of getting up to the wardrobe to pick them out manually. In just a few seconds she is dried and dressed, and Wanda purses her lips for a moment before sighing, pushing her feet into her Hawkeye themed slippers, and making her way one floor up, to see if Steve is still alive up there. The elevator seems to take forever to come, and she realises that must be because of her worry and antsiness to see if her friend is okay, but then the doors are smoothly sliding open, and Wanda is telling Friday to go “up one floor, please” and then she’s whizzing for five seconds, and then the doors are opening again, and the sight that meets Wanda makes her eyes widen.

The floor is a mess, with bits of furniture and clothes and other items strewn about, leading from the elevator into the bedroom and beyond, and Wanda raises her arms to clear a path, her footsteps light as she walks into Steve’s living area.

“Captain?” Wanda asks, her voice small, and Wanda realises, for the first time in months, she’s actually scared of what she might find. She’s hesitant, at first. How many times has she had people look after her, yet not know what to do when others may need comfort? The curtains in the living area are drawn over the floor-to-ceiling windows, but the midday sun casts a grey glow over the area. Wanda looks around, over the tipped up couch and coffee table against the wall and realises, with a small bit of relief, that Steve isn’t in here.

“Steve?” She calls out again, turning towards the bedroom, and when she gets to the door, she can’t hear a thing.

“I’m going to open the door. I can leave immediately if you need me to once I come in.” Wanda assures him, slowly reaching out to the door handle and then pulling it down. She inches the door open, wide enough for her to peek in, and then wider so she can fit her head aorund and look into the room. Like the living area, the curtains are closed and lights are off, but the room isn’t messy like outside, and Wanda exhales a breath of air she didn’t realise she was holding. Pushing the door fully open, she slips inside, and then closes it behind her, going to stand in front of it. She can make the outline of Steve lying on his bed, and if it weren’t for the miniscule movemens of his chest moving up and down, Wanda would have feared he was dead.

Steve doesn’t make any move to roll over, to meet her with his own gaze or to talk to her, and Wanda, instead, tiptoes around to the other side of the bed, where Steve is facing, and comes down to kneel so her head is even with his.

“Steve?” She croons, her voice soft, and he opens his eyes, so that Wanda is met with a blank and glassy stare. Wanda’s face falls slightly before she reaches her hand up and pushes it through his fringe and off of his forehead.

“You are in distress.” She comments, can see his jumbled memory by closing her own eyes, and usually if Wanda would try this on him, he’d crack a smile, lift her hands off of him with his own and tell her to go on her way, and to save the mind games for poker nights. He doesn’t do that, this time, instead just lying still and limp, and Wanda stands up again, her hand still in his hair.

“Move over.” She tells him, going for authoritive but also kind with her tone, and Wanda doesn’t know why he chooses to, but then Steve is slowly rolling onto his back, leaving a small space for her to sit on next to him on the bed. Wanda pulls a pillow over from the other side and places it so it rests against the headboard, and then she leans against it, her legs out straight, Steve’s head inline with her thighs.

She turns to look down at him then, a small sigh letting its way past her lips, and she returns her hand to his hair again, running her fingers through it in light and soothing motions.

“I do not know what to say, in situations like this. I am sure your other friends have tried comforting you, with words about your friend and about how it will be okay, but I think you have heard those words more than enough by now.” Wanda starts, her voice filling the silence of the room. Steve makes no effort to reply, except to turn to face her and to throw his arms around her knees and rest his cheek up on her thigh, and Wanda takes the hand on his head and moves it to stroke up and down his back, while the other links with his fingers, Steve holding on tight as soon as their palms meet.

“You are very strong, Steve. But even the strongest of us, we get weak sometimes. You are allowed to be weak. To break down. To mess up your living area so when Tony finds out he can have a huff and sigh, but weakness does not mean defeat.” Wanda tells him, unsire if he’s even listening or if he’s already gone, disappeared into that deep and dark abyss of stinging eyes and swimming heads, a place Wanda knew far too well before Steve had started to make the effort to bring her out. Steve still didn’t reply, and she knew by this point Natasha would be tensing her jaw and working on a way to rile him up, or Sam would be thinking of a way to coax it out of him, or Thor would be proposing a training session on the mats downstairs, but Wanda couldn’t do any of that, wasn’t sure she would want to make him even if she could, either.

She looked down at him, then, when she felt wetness on her thigh through her tights, and she pulled Steve up then, him letting her handle him into an awkward upright position, and she rested his head on her shoulder before he tucked it ino her neck, his body heaving then with silent sobs. Wanda continued to rub her back and squeeze his hand, pillowing her cheek on his messy hair, and she hummed under her breath to him, something her mother used to sing when she was a child after a night terror, one that calmed her no matter the time of night or where she was. Engulfed in Steve’s crushing mass, Wanda shuffled slightly, felt his embrace tighten around her, as if to stop her from leaving, as if she ever could, and a few hours later, when the sun had set and the two of them sat in complete darkness, if Natasha and Sam peeked their heads through the door and saw Steve, asleep and using Wanda as a pillow while she continued to hum, no one mentioned it the next day, or the multiple times it happened after, whenever the two of them felt like they needed support.

**Author's Note:**

> Follows on using the Maximoff's plot from AoU, which I don't agree with, so expect some kind of sequel of me trying to sort that out and make it much better for all involved, ja feel?
> 
> Not compliant with Civil War plots and such that have been rumoured
> 
> All of this is a work of fiction. I do not own the characters or universe in this story. However, the plot is mine, and I do not give permission for this story to be redistributed or republished anywhere else that isn't here.


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